He was a gray angel
by Thekuroshitsujilover
Summary: Mello wanted to stain Near, make those deep obsidian eyes and perfect pale skin tainted with red and blue. He can't accept the fact that he is nearly like a porcelain doll, too innocent, since he himself is a sinner, and sinners make the world beautiful. MelloxNear


_"I am justice."_

_"Then, are you God?"_

_"No...I'm filthy."_

_"Hey L, how can you escape from it?"_

_"You can't, Mello."_

* * *

"You still have that rosary?" Matt pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and inhaled the addictive scent of nicotine.

"Yeah."

"It's stupid." The younger genius expected an impulsive response, but the blonde took his own sweet drug, bit a chunk and savoring the melted dessert with his taste buds, his mind not even giving a damn to react in stimulus response. He never revealed a secret about it to his best friend, and now the chain smoker has been hanging for answers. Was it a memoir of tragic past, a piece of sentimentality or insanity? He never knew the past of a worn out, red beaded rosary. He used to think they shared the deepest and most hideous conversations, and pointed the weaknesses of each other, but not this time, digging beneath the bones of Russia.

Mello hopped on the vehicle of metal and black, hitting the brakes and lunging towards the foggy night. Matt still limply leaned on the wet rusts of the railings, hiding those pair of green eyes underneath the sepia goggles. He headed the opposite way stomping in leather boots and leaving the dump empty and void of life. It wasn't so unusual anymore.

City lights glimmered, making the streets livelier in the midst of blur. The temperamental blonde hustled on a straight line of illegal speed, not caring about anything related to the word 'proper'. He narrowed his cynic eyes occasionally in both the scent and sight of garbage - prostitutes and politicians; the way they hold themselves and diamonds, tattoos and money studded on their flesh. Mello didn't think twice of stopping for a second to breath and tell himself he wasn't that bad. He loved leather, guns and the metallic fragrance of blood, and he definitely loved being stained and imperfect. Sometimes stopping for a moment to close his eyes and drown in obsidian darkness helps him calm his nerves, knowing that reality will son chase after his means.

They're all dirty.

"Why, I wonder?" The voice of his buddy echoed in his head, keeping him out of concentration. He didn't want it to twist his life further and clench his heart to bleed, but being him as that one person who sees colors differently...

'_Saving the world doesn't make you the perfect hero. Not knowing about makes you pure, learning everything about it makes you inhumane.' A wise man once said before looking at himself with sympathy. He wished it all made sense._

"Self-satisfaction."

_Salvation._

_from myself, and a curse everyone is born with._

* * *

"Near"

"...Mello" The soft and firm voice clenched his heart and rip his ears, leaving him bleed for death. Dice towers tumbled down scattered, cards that mysteriously missed a deck of kings and queens laid flat and motionless. It was the same daily routine, Mello kicking on all of his masterpieces and a flaring anger in ever step. It was their legacy, a competition, a rivalry no one can level with. A chance - a goal given by their predecessor in pity of these empty children of the orphanage; something the aspire and live for, and a fate neither wanted.

They were tools.

"Near, you're too perfect. Just like a doll." The younger male did not respond, involuntarily moving his desperate fingers on the puzzle. Solving it in seconds in avoidance of depression and nausea.

"I want to see if red goes well with you." Mello grabbed the collar of his shirt, forced him on the nearest wall and did their daily routine. Near writhing beneath him, fear overtaking him. But he doesn't cry. Mello punched, kicked, bit, _stabbed. _The albino knew very well that Mello's mental stability is not in the best of standards, and that his young eyes before saw every detail a child shouldn't have. His brain was never in command; his heart is always the razor, and his logic is the wrist.

_'Sorrow, pain and his past becomes a strength his and keeps him pushing forward.'_

but he never knew what it feels like to step on those, because he never felt anything like hurt before.

But now both his burnt emotions and eyes betrayed him. He felt like crying. He felt an ache overtake the calm beating of his heart.

is this pain?

"scream for me." The room was in a deafening silence.

"N-No..."

_'Why are you staying by a demon's side_

"Let me stain you."

_If you won't look at him?_

"Hey Near, sinners make the world beautiful_"_

_if you don't feel anything for him - for me.'_

You know what, Near? Even the tiniest speck of black can change white."

it was wisdom from Mello's lips. It will stay between them - not for Whammy's or anyone in the world. Yes, it was never hate, but sticking to a lie can eventually become the truth.

_'Mello, do you know? I was named Near because...L knew I can't live if I, myself, is not beside you.'_

_ I can't be with you, Near._

_So just close your eyes, just how your name promised it._

* * *

"Matt, who's your first love?" That caught him off guard.

"You won't believe it."

"I'm used to it, Matt. You're that unpredictable."

"You know _him."_

"Holy flying _fuck,_ you're gay? It's not me, is it?"

"_Shit no way_. You're a bloody pain in the ass." Both chuckled.

"Then who is it?"

"Near."

"That's the shit I'm talking about."

"I'm not kidding." Mello was silent for a moment.

"Why didn't you chase after him then?"

"He will never look at me."

"He never does."

"Mells, he was looking at _you._"

"Shut up."

_I don't want to hear._

Mello and Matt stood up from the sodden grass. Matt stared a little longer at the dark skies above, somehow reminded him of Near. Near moved for grace in ever movement, his pearl satin-like skin reflected under the morning sun. His intellectual capability of 360 degrees and wise deduction appalled the definition of 'perfection.' But then Near was never perfect. Matt knows it. Who they called cold, emotionless and robotic bastard was human.

"Matt, let's go."

"Yeah."

They don't understand it at all.

Mello positioned himself on the motor ride, ready to take off anytime. He took one last glance at the marble concrete engraved with elegant letters of his memory. He pulled the engine and disappeared between the lonely graves of the forgotten, prepared to be the same soon.

Near

Nate River  
A tainted Angel turned gray.

Beautiful until the end

_"L, are you a monster too?"_

_"Hm...I think so."_

_"but you just loved."_

_It was the first time Mihael heard the bells._

* * *

**Author's Note: Meant to be for Mello's birthday...but yea It's a month late. Reviews maybe? First time writing something psychopathic. **


End file.
